


Mail Call

by Pixelatrix



Series: Universal Truth One-Shots: Darby in Boot Camp [3]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Silly, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 05:31:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1014710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixelatrix/pseuds/Pixelatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This one-shot is all about Darby not getting mail while in Boot Camp and how Wallace responds to that. Silly nonsense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mail Call

**Author's Note:**

> Bioware owns all, sadly.
> 
> Except Wallace, and the rest of my OC for the Universal Truth world.
> 
> As always, I am open to prompts.
> 
> Not beta'd, any mistakes are sadly, my own lol.

“Where’s Shepard?” Wallace did a quick head count of the recruits who were lined up to receive packages from home.

“Range.” Bayer didn’t look up from the letter in his hand. “She’s always there during mail call.  Poor kid never gets any damn mail.”

Wallace headed out of the building without bothering to respond.  He found Shepard practicing with a rifle.  She shot round after round into one of the targets down the range.  She was a damn good shot.

“Sir?” She set her rifle down after clearing the clip.  She moved out of her prone shooting position to stand up. “Did you need something? It’s…free time.”

“I’m going off base to pick up a few things that I can’t get at the commissary. You’re going with me, kid.” Wallace figured that she could use a distraction. He didn’t miss the flash of suspicion in her eyes however.

Shepard followed him in silence but then seemed to think of something that made her grin. “Can we go  to a book store?”

“Books? Sure.” Wallace knew a couple of places that would work. “I always hate mail call.”

She slid into the passenger’s seat of the Alliance issue SkyCar. “Why?”

“I’ve got no family which means I don’t get any mail, never have unless it’s official shit.” Wallace watched her clench her fists at her side. “I’m not saying that to make you feel better, Blondie.”

She shrugged as if she didn’t care and kept her gaze focused on the passing scenery.  She stayed silent for the rest of the ride.   He dropped her off at the bookstore so he could pick up the supplies that he wanted. 

He gave her two hours before went back to pick her up.  Shepard was sitting on the floor with her legs pulled up to her chest.  There was a stack of books next to her and she appeared to be half-way through the one in her hand.

“Time’s up, kid.”

Shepard looked up at him with a sigh. “Yes, Sir.”

He watched in confusion as she re-shelved all of the books. “You didn’t like _any_ of them?”

“I can’t fucking afford them.” Shepard pushed past him to head out of the store.

“I’ll get…”

“I don’t _want_ fucking charity.” She snapped at him then seemed to remember that he was her _damn_ drill instructor. “Sir.”

“You have no fucking fear, Blondie.” Wallace followed her out of the store laughing the whole way to the vehicle.  The kid seriously didn’t find him intimidating and if he was honest, he thought it was hilarious. “Isn’t the Alliance paying you a salary?”

“Yes.”

“You haven’t spent it on beer, because you keep stealing mine.” He slid into the seat.

“Fuck you, Sir.”

She fell silent once again as they headed back to the base.  Wallace knew that she’d come to the Alliance with practically nothing.  She’d arrived in boot camp with a backpack that didn’t hold much of anything.  Her first few salaries had been spent on fatigues and gear. 

He’d paved the way with the requisitions office to help her get better gear than she could afford.  Not that Wallace would’ve told her that.  He needed to send a message to David.  The kid should have mail, he knew how painful it was to be the only damn person not getting any.

* * *

_From: Stuart_

_To: David_

_Subj: Your pet project._

_Send the kid some damn mail._

_Stuart_

* * *

_From: David_

_To: Stuart_

_Subj: re: Shepard._

_Is the kid getting to you?_

_I thought the Wall hated every maggot that every entered the base._

_David_

* * *

_From: Stuart_

_To: David_

_Subj: re: Shepard._

_Just send her some mail and keep the sarcastic wit to a minimum._

_Bastard._

_Stuart_

* * *

Darby had forgotten about the books.  Yelling drill instructors tended to make her forget most things.  It wasn’t until mail call the following week that she was reminded of it.  She was on her way to the range when the Lieutenant who handed out the mail shouted for her.

She jogged over to him. “What?”

“Packages for you.”

She stared at the two boxes that he handed to her.  She realized that she’d been staring for a good five minutes when he coughed…loudly. She walked slowly to the barracks and sat on her bunk to continue _staring_ at them.

_Mail._

The first one was from Anderson.  She recognized the name and address on the lid.  It contained a few candy bars and a bunch of random supplies that she hadn’t been able to afford.  She’d been making do with the standard issue which fucking sucked.  There was also a letter from him at the bottom of the box.

She set it aside and reached for the second package.  There were four books inside, the ones that she’d been looking at last week.  It had no return address or even name on it.  The box included a twelve pack of beer. 

Sharing the beer and chocolate with her bunk mates, Darby finished her own beer.  She grabbed the last beer that was left and walked across the street to the office.  She placed the beer on Wallace’s desk and turned around to find him watching her.

“You lost, Blondie?”

“No, Sir.” Darby moved towards the door.

“So.”

“Thank you…for the mail.” Darby was used to people having angles.  She knew enough about Major Wallace to know that he wasn’t the kind of man who _needed_ an angle.  He’d done this just because he knew what it was like to not get mail.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” Wallace swiped the beer and twisted off the cap.

“Wallace.” Darby glanced around to make sure that they were alone.

He raised an eyebrow at her use of his name without a rank before it or a _sir_ after it. “Yes?”

“ _Thank you._ ” She felt like fidgeting under his glare which pissed her off so she flipped him the bird.

His only response was to laugh at her and then take a swig of the beer. “I think this is the start of a beautiful fucking friendship.”

 


End file.
